The Annamalai Story

by Jaswant      

 I am planning to write my story in four parts. This is the second instalment. *                       

From Wynaad Ripon Estate my father packed his bags and left with family for his hometown Calicut to stay for a few days before proceeding to the Anamallais on a transfer to Murgalli Estate. He bought his first car, a Renault 1945  model. The ghat road with its 40 hairpin bends was no doubt trying for any  driver for the first time. Aliyar dam those days was non- existent. The panoramic view and also watching the ropeway trolley laden with tea chests moving on cables across the hills was an enthralling sight.

Anamallai Ropeway company transported most of the teas from Roti Kadai to Pollachi by ropeway and from there trucks carried them to Cochin for auctions ( Forbes Ewart & Figgis, J.Thomas & Co and Carrit Morans were the only three auction houses then). 

 The Peria Dorai(Tamil for the big boss) and dorsani (the boss's wife) of Murgalli estate were Mr &Mrs Stewart . They stayed in a beautiful bungalow that had a swimming pool with immersion heaters and a sprawling garden adjoining the tennis court.

Mr.Sykes who was on lower Sheikalmudi Estate would say that whenever he called the Murgalli office Mr. Stewart would pick up the phone. Everyone thought that this man was the most loyal and dedicated manager of E&S. Sykes later discovered that it was not so. One day when Sykes went to Murgalli office to meet Stewart he was told that he was at the bungalow. At the bungalow Stewart was sun basking next to the swimming pool with a phone beside him which was an extension of the office phone. Stewart always believed that whether you worked or not the tea bush still grew.

The poor bulls had to lug the merchandise up the hills and traverse all the 40 hairpin bends before they reached Valparai on Saturday evening....

  There were very few grocery shops in Valparai that catered to the needs of the estate labour from all the 42 estates that belonged to seven corporates. The dorais and dorsanis frequented the sprawling Spencer & Co in the middle of Valparai town. The store provided everything except textile goods. The manager of the store Mr.Martin, all suited and booted, would welcome you with a smile. The store was well stocked and you could get anything special from Madras if advance orders were placed with Mr.Martin. 

There were not many trucks plying from the plains to the hills. Most of you will be surprised that all grocery items, vegetables, fruits etc for the Valparai Sunday market were transported by bullock carts from Pollachi after the weekly shanty on Thursdays . The poor bulls had to lug the merchandise up the hills and traverse all the 40 hairpin bends before they reached Valparai on Saturday evening. During the night while the cartman slept the bulls would walk without stopping and reach Valparai. There was an extra fitting in these carts and that was a boomerang shaped wooden piece tied by strings right behind the wheels. These wooden pieces dragged on the road and prevented the cart from rolling backwards in case the bulls were unable to haul the load.

There were quite a few frivolous expat asst superintendents who would stop their bikes on the ghat road at night and untie the bulls while the cart man slept. Poor cartman would realize the bulls are missing and would find himself parked on the ghat road the next morning. 

The Anamallai Club perched atop a hill with a beautiful driveway, was an aesthetically designed club house with a verandah, a lobby and bar (with a fire place), a beautiful sunken ballroom with a wooden floor, a ladies room, a small stage for music shows and plays, and a billiards room.

When you step on to the rear long verandah you have the card room on one end with a men’s restroom. At the other end of the verandah are the library, children’s room, the dining room and the kitchen, all overlooking the beautifully landscaped garden. The huge portrait of Queen Elizabeth was in the lobby over the fire place watching the revellers.

The members of the club were mostly expats. They were the Stewarts, Alistar Craig, Alistar Gordon, Fairburn, Forbes, Agnus Minotten, David Hughes, Rae Steele, David Billaby, John Walten, Hutton, Sykes, Duff, Jenkins, Henshaw, Cotrell, Sewell, Mayow, Palmer Jones, Tafe sSewart and many more. I won’t be doing justice if I don’t mention the name of Carver Marsh who opened the first plantation in the Anamallais in the year 1897.As a tribute to his enterprising and adventurous spirit a bronze statue (imported from Italy) has been erected on the ghat road near Mount Stuart Estate.

The most important person at the club was barman Murugiah who could deliver your brew without asking

My father was inducted as a member of the Anamallai Club and the Masonic lodge in 1951. He was the fourth Indian to become a member of this club. The first three members were Dr Dharmapalan, Mr P.I.Thomas and Dr Jaychandran, all from Brooke Bond &Co. The fifth Indian was Mr Maurice Madappa. After that many joined and finally when the Indians were the majority in the club committee, it was decided that Queen Elizabeth would be shifted from the lobby to the library. In her place came Dr Rajendra Prasad who thereafter watched the Indian Dorais and Dorsanis in action. Among the Indian managers Hussain was quite popular as he reared and trained a number of dogs in his bungalow. Wherever he went he had at least six dogs in his car.

The prominent Indians were Mr Raghava Menon, Naush Sethna, Dr K.T.Thomas, Bijoy Eapen,George Verghese, A.K.Thomas,Dr Disawallah, B.Kumaran, Dr John Korula, Eric Karumbayya, Dr Narayanan,  Hussain, B.M.Deviah, Madiah, N.M.Sreedharan, M.R.M.Punja, K.S.Shankar, Veeraraghavan, B.K.Muthanna, R.K.Seth, John Heatharall and many more.

 The club days were Tuesdays for children and weekends for the Peria dorais, chinna dorais and dorsanis. A piano and a nice music system was added to the décor and boy oh boy it was always party time. David and Michael chaperoned the entire crowd serving beverages and exotic short eats churned out by the oversized chef Anthony.

The most important person at the club was barman Murugiah who could deliver your brew without asking you...he knew by heart the poison you preferred. The usual dialogue when dorais met each other at the club bar was “Hello Bob, how many inches did you have last night? If Bob said 4 inches,Jim would say he had 5 inches. Well don’t get misled. They were only referring to the rain. 

LODGE ANAMALLAI 106

On weekends the club house was filled with smoke, clinking of glasses, laughter, loud music and all the feet tapping on the ballroom floor, while a small bunch was tucked away in the quiet card room and the billiards room. It was mandatory that everyone should be seen at the club on all club days. Just outside near the driveway was a single chamber for guests and a car park.  The land below the club had two tennis courts, a rugby field with a nine hole golf course and a cricket pitch, and on a small hillock was the Masonic Temple. Interclub meets for Anamallai , High Range Munnar and Coimbatore club were quite common. The inter company cricket, tennis and golf meets were twice a year. The companies were Kothari Estates, E&S, James Finlay, Anglo American Direct Tea Trading Co, Pierce Leslie & Co, BBTC Ltd, Jayshree Tea. Rugby matches between High Range Club and the Anammallai club were an annual event. Once in a way rugger players came from the Cochin naval base for a match.

The Christmas party was something that all children looked forward to.  The dorsanis decorated the club and there was this huge Christmas tree with all the gifts scattered around it. A club member would come in a tractor or bullock cart dressed as Santa. All the gifts for children were purchased from London. The toys were brought in by dorais who went to the UK on furlough.

The day after Christmas was Boxing Day when everyone met at the banks of the Sholayar river for the inter company boat race, cocktails and lunch.The club had even fabricated and set up a special diving board at the picnic site for the swimmers.. The boat race was crazy. The competitors sank each other’s boats and finally the one that survived was the winner. While the boat race was on, the bar was open and cooks from different bungalows would lay out the tables with delectable dishes for a crowd of over 120 people. Boxing Day in the Anamallais was forgotten after the British left.

Akkamallai grass hills, almost 6000 ft above sea level and just about 20 kms from Valparai, was a haunt for the keen anglers of the Anamallais. The Anamallai Planters' Association had built a fully equipped furnished two bedroom cottage with a trench around it to keep away elephants, bisons and the Nilgiri Thar(Ibex). A couple stayed there to take care of guests.

Grass grew to a height of over 6 feet and there were small patches of sholas with plenty of wild life. Between the grass and the sholas there were perennial and pristine brooks with rainbow trout. Just across the grass hills barely 16 kms away was Munnar. Many planters and their wives have trekked across this wilderness with the help of the local tribes - the Mudhukans. Before setting foot on the grass everyone had to rub a mixture of tobacco powder and oil on their legs to keep away the tiger leeches that could suck a lot of blood. It’s sad that grass hills have been now been declared a heritage site and the forest department prohibits anyone entering this area.

My younger sister’s nanny always advised my mother not to go on the first day as she felt that all the actors wouldn’t be at their best...

English movies were screened every Friday exclusively for planters at the theatre in Mudis. Besides this one Mr Sarngapani had a theatre in Roti Kadai which screened only Tamil movies. He was friendly with all planters and insisted that they see the movie on the first day itself. My younger sister’s nanny always advised my mother not to go on the first day as she felt that all the actors wouldn’t be at their best as they would be tired travelling all the way from Madras.

The bungalow we lived in at the Iyerpadi Estate had a shola behind us with lot of wild life. One day my younger sister was missing. Everyone feared that some wild animal would have carried her away. The entire labour force was deployed to find her. Finally after a thorough search she was found hiding in a rolled carpet inside the dressing room in the bungalow.

There were parties galore; Arabian nights, Red Indian nights, Wild West, New Year's Eve parties and so on. The Flower Show was another important event in the Anamallais. Judges came from Ooty to award prizes for the best bungalow garden and also for the flower exhibition at the club. A do-gooders association was formed by the planters wives to help the poor and needy. The dress code was quite stringent and therefore all the dorais and dosanis were always dressed to kill for all occasions.

The ladies, especially the Indians, would make a bee line to the popular cloth stores, Swaraj,Taj Mahal and Fashions in Coimbatore to pick up all the exotic silk sarees for different parties and events.. Planters, when they visited Coimbatore, stayed at the English Club or at popular hotels like The Majestic and Woodlands .The popular movie theatres in Coimbatore were Rainbow and Sreenivas which screened only English movies. Lucky, Davey, Bombay Ananda Bhavan and the Chinese were the restaurants in Coimbatore frequented by the planters from Valparai.  

 Each one had different models of cars and all the estate mechanics knew how to service them. One of the managers who owned a convertible Citreon was so fast on these winding roads that his car was called the flying bed pan. 

My father worked in Paralai, Murgalli, Iyerpadi and Paralai estates as an assistat superintendent under the guidance of MrStewart, Mr Sewell and Mr Cotrell . In 1958, he was promoted as the superintendent of Iyerpadi estate and thereafter was transferred to Paralai estate. Tea trade was flourishing and in 1961 each manager of E&S was provided with a Willy’s station wagon costing Rs 22000/- each. In 1962, my father was sent to UK and the entire continent on a three month furlough. Mr Sreedharan and his wife from BBTC Ltd were also in the UK during this time and they had a good time together.  

One of the parties at the Paralai bungalow was a terrible experience for my mum and dad... little did they know that a manager of Pierce Leslie & Co and another from James Finlay & Co were on the warpath.

One of the parties at the Paralai bungalow was a terrible experience for my mum and dad. Dad had invited around 20 people from different companies and little did he know that a manager of Pierce Leslie & Co and another from James Finlay & Co were on the war path.  When the party was about to be over both of them went to the rest room and there was a fist fight which no one noticed until the James Finlay guy came out with blood oozing from his mouth. It was an embarrassing moment for all. Next morning the bungalow servant retrieved a tooth from the guest bathroom. Thereafter my parents always checked with everyone before inviting guests for parties.

Another gruesome incident was when one of the British Asst Manager of Brooke Bond was totally inebriated at the club and refused to get dropped home in his friend’s car. When his friends insisted, he threw his jacket in their car and said he preferred to go on his bike. He got on to his bike and was travelling home followed by his friends in the car. He started racing the bike and somewhere near Sirikundra estate lost control and landed on the pruned tea bushes and was spiked to death. This was shocking news to all the planters in Valparai.

By 1958, ABT built a bus stand in Valparai and bus services were started. The founder of ABT Mr.Mahalingam was there in Valparai to receive the bus on its maiden trip. The first bus came up with sand bags instead of passengers. The best driver, one Khan from the ABT fleet, drove up the ghat road to reach Valparai safely. Anamallai Ropeway Company's cable trolleys from Roti Kadai to Pollachi were discontinued and trucks like Fargo and Dodge were introduced transport tea to Cochin.

In 1964 Dad was promoted as Group manager of North Wynaad estates belonging to E&S.

My parents were indeed very sad to leave this lovely planting community where they had the best of times these many years.

With a heavy heart we bid goodbye to all the good friends and the good times to move on to Wynaad. 

I must add that in the 50s and 60s the planters were the happiest lot. They were stress free with no work pressure, labour issues or financial constraints. All the tea companies were prosperous as the tea trade was flourishing and the dorais and dorsanis had a lot of time to chill out.

*Here is the link to Jaswant's first story: The stories as told by my father (1944 to 1950)

Editor's note: 'Shola' refers to regional forests. Readers may remember references to Shola in stories by Mirza Yawar Baig, Rajesh Thomas, V.R.Srikanth and Minoo Avari. 

Read more on Wikipedia  -  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shola

Meet the writer :

My name is Jaswant. I live in Coimbatore. My father Harikrishnan woked as senior planter in E&S Joint Cooperative Society Plantations in Wynaad and the Anamallais. I graduated from Madras Christian college in 1972, worked in J Thomas and Company for one year, Excel industries Ltd,Mumbai, an agro chemical company for three years and from 1976 to 2007 I was running a company called Growel, supplying agro chemicals to most of the tea planting companies in South India. Since 2006 I am running a homestay in Coimbatore catering to the needs of the international,corporate and plantation guests who visit Coimbatore often.

Is this your first visit here? Welcome to Indian Chai Stories! Do you have a chai story of your own to share? Send it to me here, please : indianchaistories@gmail.com. 

My name is Gowri Mohanakrishnan and I'm a tea planter's wife. I started this blog because one of the things that I wouldn't want us to lose in a fast changing world is the tea story - a story always told with great seriousness, no matter how funny - always true (always) - maybe a tall tale, maybe long, short, impossible, scary, funny or exciting but never dull. You will find yourself transported to another world! 

Happy reading! Cheers to the spirit of Indian Tea! ADD THIS LINK TO YOUR FAVOURITES : https://teastorytellers.blogspot.com/

 

 

That "Planter's Spirit"!

by Danny Pariat 

On seeing the photo of the remains of the dilapidated Goriajan Club building, a retired planter who was a young assistant in the Dhunseri area in the late 60s/early 70s had the following to say about his club during those days, the Dhunseri Polo Club. 

Such a pity that just the skeleton of a shell remains. If only the walls could speak and convey the many flings exuberant planters have had within these precincts it would fill volumes of interesting tales. 

At least Dhunseri Club has survived but it came dangerously close to being shut down in 1972. 

I was the Chotta Saheb in Behora. Two senior planters resigned their membership over a very petty issue of shifting the club days, and the company contributions from WM as well as Tata Tea stopped coming. My pleas for help from WM fell on deaf ears. The then Director cleverly passed on the buck to the Visiting Agent based in Upper Assam, who - to my utter disappointment - had said, "Gone are the days of satellite clubs that were formed during the time of poor transport facilities. You guys can easily take a drive to Goriajan or Jorhat Club twice a week." 

Five of us Assistants met and resolved to keep the club going despite the company’s support being withdrawn. Each one of us pooled in funds. A live band from Jorhat ( Dennis Banks and his boys had formed the 'Gnats' ) agreed to perform for a fee in kind by way of  'unlimited rum and dinner'. 

The Midsummer dance 'do' which was then held was a thundering success when planters from Misa, Jorhat and even Seleng came over for a fun filled night. The news had reached the Director at Head Office and he was gracious enough to send in the companies’ contributions with arrears. 

I had my last word with the V.A. when I said, "Sir it is very simple to close down an existing facility but it takes a whole lot of 'spirit' to keep it going!!!" 

The nice coat of arms for Dhunseri Club was designed by the artistic Dr Banerjee whose talent was in art and wild life and practicing medicine, apparently, was his hobby.

 I gather Dhunseri Club is still a thriving club nowadays.

 - Danny Pariat

Editor's note: Do you have a photograph of the Dhunseri Club? Would you like to share it with other readers? Please email it to me at indianchaistories@gmail.com.

Thank you!

Meet the writer:

DANNY PARIAT

Born and brought up in Shillong, I graduated in Bsc in 1971 and soon after, i.e. Feb 1972, had joined at Koomsong T.E. in Doom Dooma.  I married my girl from Shillong and we have two lovely daughters - Deanna is a doctor in the U.K. and Janice, author/writer, art critic, poet is teaching at a university near Delhi.
My work places varied between the south and north bank - started at Koomsong, then four years later went across to Pertabghur near Bishnauth Charali, back to Moabund near Jorhat from where my actings started then back for my first billet at Harchurah. Thereafter worked at Seajuli,Rupajuli, Margherita and Pertabghur. I finally called it a day in December 2004 and made it back home just before Christmas.


Is this your first visit here? Welcome to Indian Chai Stories! 
If you've ever visited a tea garden or lived in one, or if you have a good friend who did, you would have heard some absolutely improbable stories! You will meet many storytellers here at Indian Chai Stories, and they are almost all from the world of tea gardens: planters, memsaabs, baby and baba log. Each of our contributors has a really good story to tell - don't lose any time before you start reading them!

Do you have a chai story of your own to share? Send it to me here, please : indianchaistories@gmail.com. My name is Gowri Mohanakrishnan and I'm a tea planter's wife. I started this blog because one of the things that I wouldn't want us to lose in a fast changing world is the tea story - a story always told with great seriousness, no matter how funny - always true (always), maybe a tall tale, long, or short, impossible, scary, funny or exciting but never dull. The blog is updated every two to three days. You will find yourself transported to another world! 

Happy reading! Cheers to the spirit of Indian Tea! 
ADD THIS LINK TO YOUR FAVOURITES : https://teastorytellers.blogspot.com/Indian Chai Stories

Tea Tales & Chotta Sahibs

by Inder Nain

The endless carpet of dark green tea under the dappled shade of the Albizia Chinensis gave way in places to patches of natural forest... My escapes into these little gardens of Eden were always a delightful respite

I joined a Dooars tea estate in the spring of 1986. It was ruled by a grand old Burra sahib. Only, I discovered to my dismay there was little 'grand' and  a lot of 'old' about the Burra Sahib...he was soon to retire.

Be that as it may, I was only allowed into his presence three days after my arrival at the estate. He grunted a welcome in response to my “Good evening, Sir”. I saw little of him after that - to my relief.

In any case I was busy making sense of this mesmerizing world I had stumbled upon. It was lush & green & humid and abuzz. I was “Chotta Sahib” in charge of 200ha of tea and over 500 workers and their lives. Cycling to work at the break of dawn with the “cucku cuckoo” of the Indian cuckoo in my ears and the responsibility of putting 500 often belligerent workers to task weighed heavy on my mind.

The grass was green & wet from the night’s downpour, the sun shone through the trees in misty rays, branches hung low with weight of the moisture. The air, pregnant with designs for the day. I was often amazed, even excited at times but always a little scared. Took a deep breath and pedalled on, noticed a little, learning a lot.

The endless carpet of dark green tea under the dappled shade of the Albizia Chinensis gave way in places to patches of natural forest, where droves of “greeners” nested in a large oak, the silk cotton trees reached for the sky and alien gulmohur added colour to the greenery. My escapes into these little gardens of Eden were always a delightful respite.

The Jaldhaka river ( pix from https://mysticdooars.com/jaldhaka )

I learnt of the workers separated by race & tribe. The giggle of the young Adivasi maidens was, compared to the continuous chatter of the Nepalese damsels, a different rhyme, and my young heart did flutter at times!

If one thing described the reign of the new Burra Sahib it was 'procrastination' of  a mind-numbing scale

Time rolled on, and I moved from the bicycle to the motorcycle. The Old Man’s gruffness & grunts gave way to the unending drone of the new incumbent.

If one thing described the reign of the new Burra Sahib it was 'procrastination' of  a mind-numbing scale. He firmly believed, 'When something could be delayed to tomorrow it should never be attempted today'. His dithering delays were never more apparent than at times when Burra Babu confronted him with a cheque to be signed, payment for some unfortunate supplier.

He started out with feigned gusto but soon got stuck on the upright of the 'K' (his first initial). He scribbled and scratched on the K for so long it tore right through the cheque. At the first sign of distraction he flung the cheque book aside, "Burra Babu let’s do this later". The poor supplier would have to feed his children another day!

It was time for my annual leave, in fact it had been time for about twelve months, but the man just wouldn’t give me a firm answer.

"You can go after the pruning!!" he would say.

When that came around, "Go after the LP plucking!" ...and so on & on it went.

I kept up the badgering however, and he finally snapped, "Go today".

"Thank you, sir", I said and left.

The only ticket I could manage was a 'waiting' in the 2 tier AC of the Tinsukhia mail that night. When I reached NJP Rly Station, the train was 3 hrs late. Waiting on the mosquito infested platform, I met another hapless young planter in a similar predicament. We would be 'humsafars' on this journey; relief was writ large on both our faces.

Together we managed to push through the throngs as the train arrived and we reached our bogie. We heaved a sigh of relief in the AC as we took up position in the aisle and sat down on our suitcases. The train soon pulled out of the station to our greater relief, and we believed we had made it. To hell with the 'sleepers we would manage very well in the comfort of the AC, it was only a day & a half after all! But that was not to be….

We soon forgot our discomfort; chutti blues were sinking in 

The man in the black coat and stained white pants was soon upon us.

He checked our tickets& shouted back, "Yeh to baiting hai. Aap bahar niklo!"

Our pleas for help had little effect - never realised that an INR20 note would have easily achieved what our appeals didn’t.

Anyway, at Katihar we were thrown out of the comfort of the AC. We were soon scrambling to get into the unreserved compartment already bursting at its seams. Scramble on we did after much pushing & shoving but barely, hanging precariously at the door as the train pulled out of the station again. The heat & sweat didn’t rank low on our attention, but staying on the train needed all our focus.

As the train trundled on, we slowly nudged a little deeper and settled down in the doorway. Dare not push any further, the doorway was certainly more comfortable - but more importantly, the stench from the sweating unwashed horde inside was a bit more bearable with the wind in our faces! 

We soon forgot our discomfort; chutti blues were sinking in. We exchanged stories about the pruning and the plucking and our unpredictable Burra Sahibs. The train kept its gentle sway as the country rolled by, Jhaal Moorie gave way to Aloo Poori as  the train pulled into Mugal Sarai.

We tried it all, boiled Anda & garam chai, thanda soft drink and everything that passed by. Germs would be sorted out later, we were going home. We got to know each other and a few of the closely squashed fellow travelers a little better, helping each other pass on food or cold bottles of dubious Bisleri, helping with the luggage when someone was getting off or on, and the night had soon slipped past our weary eyes.

I woke up with the sun in my face and on the diesel engine bellowing clouds of smoke as the train took a large bend. The whole countryside was awash with the orange hue of the early morning sun. As the sun ascended into the sky and the heat started to bite, the train rolled into Kanpur. Delhi was not far and it was nearly home…and it didn’t bother me that I had a five hour bus ride after getting to Delhi.

Nizamudin Rly Station was a cacophony of sounds as the train rolled in. the overwhelming cackle the swarms of the Indian Myna, the yells of the coolies hurrying along the slowing train, faint sounds of Amir Khusrau’s songs sung at the Auliya’s dargah…but I heard none of it. Heard not the screeching announcements, nor felt the coolies tugging at my luggage.

Groggy & tired I pushed through and rushed for the toilets. I jumped back at the sight of a strange, dark, ghostly face staring at me from the mirror, he jumped back too, surprisingly! It suddenly struck me, all the diesel soot from the engine had covered my face a ghostly black, thanks to the seat in the open doorway!

Never again was I going to fall for “Go today”.

Meet the writer: Inder Nain

Inder in his own words: 

Inder's life & times
Little brains & ample mind,
No common sense to hold me behind,
I push on..

Lucky breaks & simple takes,
Keeps me smelling the roses - 
and whisky's fine,
Leaving little room to whine.

And here is the 'practical version' as his wife calls it: 
Inder Nain worked for Goodricke Tea for 15 years in the Dooars and Assam before moving to Kenya in 2000. He worked with Sasini tea and coffee before moving on to start his own rose farm in 2006.  He is now successfully settled in Kenya growing roses.

Is this your first visit here? 

Welcome to Indian Chai Stories! Do you have a chai story of your own to share? Send it to me here, please : indianchaistories@gmail.com. My name is Gowri Mohanakrishnan and I'm a tea planter's wife. I started this blog because one of the things that I wouldn't want us to lose in a fast changing world is the tea story - a story always told with great seriousness, no matter how funny - always true (always), maybe a tall tale, long, or short, impossible, scary, funny or exciting but never dull. You will find yourself transported to another world! 

 Happy reading! Cheers to the spirit of Indian Tea!  ADD THIS LINK TO YOUR FAVOURITES : https://teastorytellers.blogspot.com/Indian Chai Stories

Face to Face with a Tiger

by Bhupendra (Bob) Singh Auwa

I froze in my path...he may have attacked me and I may not have been here today writing this piece.

In May 1959 I joined the tea estates as an Assistant Manager with James Finlay & Co at their garden called Hattigor (Hatigarh in Hindi) in Assam. I with my servants flew from Calcutta in a World War II vintage Dakota being operated by some private party and landed at The Mangaldai Planters Club on their makeshift landing strip, old polo ground, where Williamson Magors, another British Tea Company, used to operate their private aircraft.

A truck was sent from the garden to pick up my luggage and my two servants (a bearer and a cook) and Mr Stevenson, the Assistant Manager, came to pick me up in his jeep.

This was my first look at a tea bush. He took me to his 'chung' bungalow, (most old tea bungalows  in Assam were built on stilts and hence called 'chung' bungalows) for tea, and I was asked to spend the night there and meet the Manager next morning. Little later that evening, Nosh Tankariwala from a neighbouring estate of the same company came over to meet me and said there had been a kill on his garden, probably by a leopard. So off we went, Stevenson with his rifle, Nosh and myself. However the animal never showed up on the kill.

Hattigor Tea Estate, one of the prestigious properties of James Finlay and Co. Ltd, was on the North Bank of the river Brahmaputra, just below the foothills of the mighty Himalayas about 100 kms from Guwahati, the nearest big town. It was a huge estate, in those days spread over about 800 hectares under tea. Between the garden and the hills there was an old Tangbari* and tall grass and hardly any habitation. Wild life was in abundance in Assam in those days; it was infested with tigers, leopards, wild elephants and many other big and small game. Morris Barker, a planter on this estate before me, had shot a few tigers and leopards there.

Bob supervising work at Powai T.E.

I was very keen on hunting but had no guns or rifles with me, as my gun license then was limited to Rajasthan. There was another planter, Pratap Singh, son of Lt. Gen. Nathu Singh Gumanpura, on a nearby estate. I borrowed his .12 bore gun for small game shooting and one fine early morning in the month of November went out for a shoot to the north of the garden, looking for small game like wild fowl and partridges. One chowkidar from the garden was to come with me but he got late, and without waiting for him, I left my bicycle on the side and walked into this area with tall grass. 

After a mile of walking I was rudely shaken up from my walk with a loud growl. There was a tiger not more than 50 yards from me in the tall grass and all I could see was his tail. I froze in my path and started walking backwards. As I came to know later the tiger had made a buffalo kill the previous day and had had his fill, otherwise he may have attacked me and I may not have been here today writing this piece.

In those days there was plenty of big game in Assam and in the Dooars area of West Bengal. It was much later that the Government of India banned hunting, initially big game hunting and later of course even small game hunting.

The only other time I sighted a tiger was in 1969, when my wife and myself were coming back from Mariani Planters Club late one night to Debrapar Tea Estate: this tigress was on the side of the road about to attack cows in a cow-shed of some Nepali chap out side Dessoi Tea Estate. In fact in Debrapar the tiger - or may be the same tigress - killed our cow in the cow shed one night. We saw tiger pug marks in the morning and it was later confirmed by the official of the Forest dept.

Of course there were many leopards seen in Assam those days on the road coming back from the club, in Numaligarh and in Bhukial Tea Estates. 

In fact when we were posted at Lattakoojan Tea Estate in 1980 - 86, one evening going to Dhunseri Club, a black panther jumped out of the tea bushes over the fence and crossed the road. In the car light his black coat was shining and you could see yellow spots. 

Black panthers are black due to mutation, and they are not a different breed of animals. In fact at this very estate about 20 years earlier, in the 1960's, Pushpendra Ghanerao returning one night from somewhere found the black panther sitting on the roadside. He went to his bungalow,  took out his rifle came back and shot the animal. It was in those days when shooting was still allowed.

*The Tangbari I have referred to above was a bari or a forest of Tang trees, from which I was told oil was extracted, and this was long before I joined tea. They were trees which bore red cherry like fruits, but by my time all the trees had been cut for timber and there was nothing but tall grass growing there. Since then tea has been planted in this area.

Meet the writer: 

Bhupendra (Bob) Singh 

After graduating from Mayo College, Ajmer, I joined tea in May 1959, with James Finlay & Co., Ltd. at their Hattigor T E in Assam. The company changed hands and became Tata Finlays and then later Tata Tea Ltd. Having served in many gardens in Assam as Assistant Manager and later as Manager since 1974, was lastly transferred to Dam Dim T E in Dooars in 1991. In my last year with Tata Tea, I was posted to Delhi to look after their rice exports to the Middle-East.

A keen student of history, fond of outdoor games and shooting, we enjoyed our days in Tea with my wife Teeka and two daughters Harsha and Raksha, who still remember their good days in the gardens.

Is this your first visit here? Welcome to Indian Chai Stories!
Do you have a chai story of your own to share?  
Send it to me here, please : indianchaistories@gmail.com. 

My name is Gowri Mohanakrishnan and I'm a tea planter's wife. I started this blog because one of the things that I wouldn't want us to lose in a fast changing world is the tea story - a story always told with great seriousness, no matter how funny - always true (always), maybe a tall tale, long, or short, impossible, scary, funny or exciting but never dull. 
Happy reading! Cheers to the spirit of Indian Tea! 

Lovable Ayahs

by Alan Lane

The story told by Gumi Malhotra is excellent and certainly brought back memories of my Nepali ayah way back in the late 1940s.

To be honest, once the planters had a good ayah they were very reluctant to let them go!
Even though in the majority of cases the ayahs spoilt “their” children terribly.

A few days before my father passed away, he told me of a couple of nursery rhymes that my Ayah used to tell me. These were the standard stock that I am sure most expatriate ‘char babas’ were told.

“Little Jack Horner”:
 Chhota Jack Horner
Kona par beta
Khatata Kismish mithai
Angli gussaya
Kishmish nikhalaBola
“Kya good boy ham hai!”

“Humpty Dumpty”:

Humpty Dumpty upa me bita
Humpty dumpty girghia phut!
Sub Rajah ka monas,
Sub Rajah ka ghorra
Humpty dumpty kubbi nay jora

And:
Neeni, baba neeni, roti, mucken, cheeni
Roti mucken hogia, chota baba sogiar.

And I had not heard this nursey rhyme that Carol Penstone (nee Graham, whose father was a long-time manager at Pahargoomiah TE ) shared – have you?

Little Miss Muffet:

Mukati My, Dood Millai
Ghass mer bite parr Khai
Aya muckra sari pukra
Bagh geer Mukati Mai

To be honest, the only one that I can remember is the Humpty Dumpty rhyme, because my aunt (my mother’s sister, born in Allahabad in 1914)  used to tell me that every time I went to see her, even when I was in my teens! Do any other ‘char babas’ remember these?

When I was about three years old, after a bath, I escaped from the ayah, and running around naked, my father admonished me by telling me that I might lose my ‘little worm’ as the ducks would peck it off. A few days later, another ayah came to the bungalow with a little girl and both she and I (of the same age then) were given a bath together. Apparently, I was most upset, and on being asked why by my father, I told him that the little girl must have lost her ‘little worm’ to the ducks!

Is this your first visit here? Welcome to Indian Chai Stories!
Do you have a chai story of your own to share?  
Send it to me here, please : indianchaistories@gmail.com. 

My name is Gowri Mohanakrishnan and I'm a tea planter's wife. I started this blog because one of the things that I wouldn't want us to lose in a fast changing world is the tea story - a story always told with great seriousness, no matter how funny - always true (always), maybe a tall tale, long, or short, impossible, scary, funny or exciting but never dull.
 Happy reading! Cheers to the spirit of Indian Tea!
Meet the writer:

Alan Lane, a 'cha ka baba', was born in Bombay. His contribution to Indian Chai Stories goes beyond the written word: he keeps a large number of people all over the world connected with their roots in India. In his own words, 'My wife and I still have lots of connections with India and we are, as you may well say, ‘Indophiles’.' Alan and Jackie Lane live in the UK; they left India a little over fifty years ago. Read the story of this cha ka baba's return to the tea gardens of Assam as a Crossley engineer here: Indian Chai Histories.  You will find more stories by Alan here.

Christina and Amina

by Gumi Malhotra

One of the happiest times on the tea plantation was the time spent gardening.

I always thought I got that from following my mother around while she planned and potted her garden but recently she told me that it was Christina who would take me around each plant and point out the new shoots and buds and tell me their names.

Christina was the lady who looked after me till I was five years old. I still remember her voice and the feel of her white saree. I remember hiding in the pleats because I’m told I was a shy child! She and I would have make-believe picnic parties, she indulged my imagination and I am so grateful to her for that and for igniting my love for plants. I wish she was around today so I could tell her in person - but when you can’t do anything in reality, you write about it.

These ladies were called ‘ayahs’ in tea and I believe the origin of this word means ‘maid servant’ in Portuguese, the most inept and inaccurate description ever! These were ladies of stature, who despite their loving ways with children occasionally displayed shades of Mrs Danvers to keep young mothers in check! When Imaan came as a baby to Nahortoli TE, the formidable Amina helped me look after him.

She would come in at eight in the morning and take over her Baba, giving him to me or Sukhi most reluctantly. Once after we'd had a few harrowing sleepless nights with Imaan, she came in at five am.

After the Baba went to sleep ( within five minutes! ) I asked her why she came to work early. She said the chowkidaar came banging at her door earlier saying, ‘ Jaldi aao, Baba aur memsahib dono jor jor se rota hai’!! ( Be quick, both Baba and memsahib are weeping loudly! )

We got in touch with Amina last month and we chatted about the boys and those early years gone by...it felt good reconnecting with her, like filling in a blank space we very often forget about.

                        

Meet the writer: Gumi Malhotra

Gumi Malhotra

Hello chai people, here’s another attempt to pen down one of the million memories I carry with me. We came away twelve years ago with our hearts full ( not so much the pocket) of such nuggets. We live in Bangalore now and what started as a hobby in the gardens has become my calling. I paint pet portraits. The happiest days spent in tea were in the Jali kamra with my paints, the boys occupied with make believe cars and a steady stream of tea flowing from the kitchen. Cheers!

Is this your first visit here? Welcome to Indian Chai Stories! 
 
Do you have a chai story of your own to share? Send it to me here, please : indianchaistories@gmail.com. My name is Gowri Mohanakrishnan and I'm a tea planter's wife. I started this blog because one of the things that I wouldn't want us to lose in a fast changing world is the tea story - a story always told with great seriousness, no matter how funny - always true (always), maybe a tall tale, long, or short, impossible, scary, funny or exciting but never dull. You will find yourself transported to another world! 
 
Happy reading! Cheers to the spirit of Indian Tea!ADD THIS LINK TO YOUR FAVOURITES : https://teastorytellers.blogspot.com/Indian Chai Stories

The 1944 to 1950 Story

by Jaswant

One sunny September afternoon in 1944, a slim young man who had just graduated from Madras Christian College was ushered into the the general manager's office of English & Scottish Joint Cooperative Wholesale Society for an interview with the general manager for the post of an Assistant superintendent on Ripon Estate in South Wynaad.

This office was situated on the Beach Road in Calicut and was the head office in India. Their estates were Ripon in South Wynaad close to town, Meppadi, Talapoya, Cherkara, Jessie and Tatamala estate in North Wynaad, Caroline and Attikunna in the Nilgiris, Iyerpadi, Paralai, Lower Sheikalmudi, Murugalli and Sheikalmudi in Anamllais, and Deckiajuli in Assam.

Calicut was a trading centre for companies like Pierce Leslie and company, Volkart Brothers, Aspinwall and company etc. They all traded in spices, cashew, coir products and copra. Calicut had a pier jutting into the sea about two kms long.Goods for overseas trade were moved on rails to the end of the pier for loading onto to the huge dhows that were anchored alongside.These dhows carried the export goods to waiting ships in the middle of the Arabian sea.

There were a few textile mills too. All of them were headed by British executives.My grandfather was the public prosecutor in Calicut and was also the legal advisor to most of these companies.He Was Rao Bahadur T.C.Karunakaran.He was a close friend of Mr Boland who headed Pierce Leslie and company. Mr Boland and Mr J.W. Russel, general manager of E&S were bum chums and this is how my father C.Harikrishnan was selected as an assistant superintendent of Ripon.

Selection of the candidate as a covenanted staff was based on the family background, command over the English language and sporting activities. Appointment was a contract to be signed with the company for three years and to be renewed for a further three years after a furlough of three months. The contract to be signed was sent from the office on 100 Leman Street, London.The entire Leman Street belonged to E&S, a company with different divisions from safety pins to aeroplanes. 

Tea was a very small division. The British candidates were selected and sent to India on contracts ranging from three to five years with three months' notice on either side. So the same terms and conditions were applicable to the Indian counterparts too. The salary was Rs 1000/- per month with all facilities like furnished bungalow with curtains, bed linen, crockery, cutlery, cooking utensils, an Electrolux refrigerator that operated on a kerosene lamp, the cast iron stove that burnt throughout the day on fire wood and of course a cook and a bungalow servant.

My dad's first posting was on Ripon Estate close to the Meppadi town. Ripon was about four hours from Calicut (now its about 2.5 hours).The roads were bad: Calicut to Kunnamangalam, Thamarserri and to Adivaram where all the cars are stopped for cooling the engine before climbing the Vythiri ghats.

My dad always spoke of the small tea shop at Adivaram where you could devour the best sardine curry and rice with coconut chutney and pappadam while the car engine was being cooled. Once you are up the Vythiri ghats you are in Chundale and then Meppadi and next is Ripon. 

Dad's boss was Mr Threadgill, a stocky middle aged Scottish man who ran the estate like an army commandant. His workers were very loyal to him. Those were the days when there were no labour unions and whatever the Superintendent said was law. The field staff were the field writer, plucking writer, and the supervisor. Estate office was run by the head clerk who had three or four assistants to take care of the accounts and the day to day affairs of the estate. Most of the staff members were Malayalis. The training as an asst superintendent was rigorous. Field practices and tea production were taught by the Superintendent, the field and factory staff.

Trainees were not involved in the social activities though there was the Meppadi Club frequented by the British managers of Harissons&Crosfield, AV Thomas and Company, Chembra Peak Estate, Elstone Estate, private owners of large estates and also visitors from Attikunna and Caroline Estate in Nilgiri Wynaad.

After three years' contract my dad went for his three month furlough and got married.The contract was renewed for another three years. He picked up his first second hand Norton bike from one of the managers in Harissons Crosfield

My elder sister was born in 1948. My father was selected as a member of the Meppadi club in 1949. The club days were Wednesdays,Saturdays and Sundays. On club days the clubs car parking space had the likes of Citroen,  Austin of England, Studebaker, Dodge, Hillman, Vaxhall, Standard Vanguard etc. The bikes were Matchless, Triumph, AJS, Indian etc.

On 7th May 1950 I was born in Ripon Estate's Assistant Managers Bungalow. Within six months transfer orders came from the Calicut office for my dad to move from Ripon to Murugalli Estate in the Anamallais. 

Anamallais with 42 estates belonging to seven corporates and the beautiful club in Valparai changed my dad's life.

All I can say is that it was party time.

Meet the writer :

My name is Jaswant. I live in Coimbatore.My father Harikrishnan woked as senior planter in E&S Joint Cooperative Society Plantations in Wynaad and the Anamallais. I graduated from Madras Christian college in 1972, worked in J Thomas and Company for one year, Excel industries Ltd,Mumbai, an agro chemical company for three years and from 1976 to 2007 I was running a company called Growel, supplying agro chemicals to most of the tea planting companies in South India. Since 2006 I am running a homestay in Coimbatore catering to the needs of the international,corporate and plantation guests who visit Coimbatore often.

I am planning to write my stories in four parts. 
1.The stories as told by my father (1944 to 1950) 
2.The Anamallai days. 
3.The Wynaad days. 
4.My chemical peddling days.

Is this your first visit here? Welcome to Indian Chai Stories! Do you have a chai story of your own to share? Send it to me here, please : indianchaistories@gmail.com.

My name is Gowri Mohanakrishnan and I'm a tea planter's wife. I started this blog because one of the things that I wouldn't want us to lose in a fast changing world is the tea story - a story always told with great seriousness, no matter how funny - always true (always), maybe a tall tale, long, or short, impossible, scary, funny or exciting but never dull. 

Happy reading! Cheers to the spirit of Indian Tea!